


Taking Root

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, M/M, Men of Letters Headquarters, Post Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:05:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESS!</p><p>This is for you. Sorry it's not super fluffy - I'm not even sure what it is, but it's for you!</p>
    </blockquote>





	Taking Root

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frecklesarechocolate (onlybritainisgreat)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=frecklesarechocolate+%28onlybritainisgreat%29).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY JESS!
> 
> This is for you. Sorry it's not super fluffy - I'm not even sure what it is, but it's for you!

It’s been a slow process, getting Cas acclimated to human life.

When Cas first showed up at the bunker door, battered, dirty, soaking wet, bleeding and silent as he stared desperately into Dean’s face, Dean had pulled him inside and into his arms in a tight, tight hug while shouting for Sam and Kevin to run for towels and bandages.

Dean had stood there in the doorway, arms around the shaking angel (man?) and held him close, letting him bury his face in Dean’s shoulder and lean against him.

They’d finally gotten him dried off, changed, and into a room just down the hall. 

 Sam and Kevin had retreated, telling Dean to get them if Cas needed something, but Dean couldn’t leave just yet.

Cas sat in the center of the bed, back slumped against the headboard. He’d finally stopped shaking, but he was pale and looked small in Dean’s sweatshirt and without the overcoat. Dean was reminded uncomfortably of the last time he’d left Cas in a bed looking lost and alone and he felt something break inside him at the thought of leaving Cas like that again.

So Dean stood in the doorway, watching. Cas sat perfectly still, eyes closed, but his body was tense and curled in on itself. His hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides and his bare feet (and wasn’t that weird) were tucked under his crossed legs.

“Cas?” He asked, tentatively. “You gonna be all right on your own here?”

Cas didn’t respond.

Dean stepped closer until he stood next to the bed, then hesitated, looking at Cas.

The angel hadn’t moved–he hadn’t responded at all to Dean’s presence. 

Dean sat down carefully, making sure to leave a few inches between his thigh and Cas’s fingers. “Cas?” He lifted a hand and placed it on the angel’s wrist. 

The angel opened his eyes and focused on Dean's hand. "Dean, I-" he swallowed, shifting his gaze to the wall in front of him. "I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do." He looked so lost that Dean felt his heart breaking for the angel.

"Wish I could, buddy." Dean sighed, fingers idly tracing patterns on Cas's wrist and hand as he shifted to sit on the bed more completely, toeing his boots off and leaning next to Cas against the headboard. "Wish I could." Cas, still staring into space, slid his hand up until their fingers brushed.

They sat in silence for a while. Dean wasn't sure whether Cas wanted him there, but every time he shifted to get up Cas's fingers twitched beneath his, not quite wrapping around Dean's but almost as if they wanted to.

It had been a long day of driving, and Dean had been exhausted even before a ragged former angel had appeared on their doorway. As Cas continued to sit on the bed, eyes closed, motionless except for his hand below Dean's, Dean's head slipped slowly to the side until it rested on Cas's shoulder. Curled against his newly-human friend, he slept.

\-----

The next morning Dean had awoken to find himself wrapped bodily around Cas, head in the angel's lap and one arm thrown across his thighs. Hs other hand still rested on Cas's and Cas's fingers lay on Dean's hair, petting him gently.

Dean froze as he realized how close he was lying and sent a silent prayer to no one that the angel was still asleep and petting him in some sort of sleepwalking situation.

"Hello, Dean," said Cas quietly as Dean tensed to shift, hand continuing to stroke carefully across Dean's hair.

No such luck.

Dean sat up quickly, pulling his hand from Cas's and rubbing a hand over his face. "Hey Cas." There was no need to discuss it, he decided. So they woke up in bed together, so what? He and Cas were just... different, that's all. And the guy needed some comfort after recent events, Dean supposed.

"I'm gonna go make some eggs and bacon, okay? You wanna come with?" Dean stood, stretching and rolling his neck.

Cas shook his head, placing his hands back, folded, in his lap, closing his eyes, and leaning back against the headboard.

"Okay." Dean started for the door, then paused. He looked back at the angel. "You sure you're all right, Cas?"

Cas nodded and turned his face away, facing the wall.

Somehow Dean didn't quite believe him.

\-----

Cas hadn't left his room, not that Dean had seen, anyway, since that day. Three days later, Dean's worried.

The scar on Cas's throat where his grace had been stolen is almost healed. It’s no longer red and angry, but is now a white so bright it's almost blue. Dean finds himself staring at it when he visits the angel, trying to push down the feeling of wanting to touch it, feel if it’s hot or cold or just another piece of skin. He's not sure what that desire is about, or where it came from, but he doesn't particularly trust or like it.

Cas, for his part, sits on the bed and stares at the wall. Sometimes he shifts his gaze to the ceiling, or the door, and when Dean is in the room it will sometimes flick to him, then away.

After that first night, Cas doesn't speak.

Dean sits with him for a few hours every day, flopping down on the bed next to Cas and talking about nothing of value just to fill the space until he can't stand the lack of response and falls silent.

Eventually Sam or Kevin–or Charlie and Jody when they visit–will come and will need him for something, trading off with him to sit with Cas for a while. But Cas responds to them even less than he does to Dean.

Most nights, after Sam and Kevin and whoever else is visiting are asleep, Dean slips out of bed, down the hall, to stand at Cas's door. The angel finally gave in to the need for sleep after three stubborn nights, and now each night he lies curled tightly in a ball, just as silent and stiff as in his waking hours.

But this time it's different, Dean realizes as he watches Cas through the gloom. Cas isn't still and he isn't quite silent. There are small noises coming from the shadowy figure on the bed, and he's shaking slightly. 

Giving in to temptation and worry, Dean edges closer, sitting carefully on the bed.

Cas's face is buried in his bent knees as he lies on his side facing the wall. 

Deans not see what to do, until muffled words makes its way to his ears.

"No, please... " Cas, Dean realizes, is having a nightmare.

This Dean knows how to handle from years of sharing a room with a young–and not so young– Sam.

"Hey, hey, Cas-" he places a hand on Cas's back, rubbing slowly, "it's ok, bud. It's just a dream." Cas's shoulders shake as a sob forces its way from his throat. "Come on, Cas. Wake up, dude. It's all right." He runs his hand over the angel's hair, brushing it back from his forehead and thinking in the back of his mind that they’re going to have to get him a haircut soon now that his hair isn't angel-frozen in length.

He leans closer as Cas continues to sob, tears springing in his eyes in sympathy, and wraps an arm around the other man’s waist, murmuring reassurances in his ear. Slowly Cas relaxes, uncurling and rolling over until his face is nestled under Dean's chin. 

Dean blinks, uncertain, as Cas's arms slip around him and he's suddenly switched from comforting to... cuddling.

He thinks about pulling away, but... he’s warm, he’s comfortable, and it’s been another long, hard day. He’s exhausted and he’s already on the edge of sleep. Cas has stopped whimpering and is wrapped around him like an octopus and Dean’s too damn tired to wonder why this is so nice. He closes his eyes and sleeps.

\-----

When Dean wakes, he's more rested than he can remember being in recent memory. He luxuriates in the feeling for a moment, stretching and burying his face in the pillow beneath him, before opening his eyes to an unfamiliar room and an empty bed.

Frowning, he sits up. He’s in Cas’s room, and slowly the night’s events come back to him. He rubs a hand over his face and slides from the bed, praying that he can make it back to his room without Sam or Kevin seeing him. He really doesn’t want to explain to them that he spent the night snuggling an angel.

Speaking of the angel... where is Cas? He hadn’t left his room for days, as far as Dean knew, and now he’s nowhere in sight.

Dean steps out of the room and starts down the hall. He’s searching every room, and is just starting to admit he’s actually worried when Cas appears next to him, making him jump.

“Jesus, Cas!” He reaches out a hand towards the angel then lets it fall. “I thought you’d make more noise without your mojo, but I guess not.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas starts to  slip past in the direction of his bedroom but Dean grabs his wrist.

“Hang on, dude. Let me get you some breakfast, ok?”

Cas nods and follows him.

It’s progress, thinks Dean, heading to the kitchen with a fallen angel in tow. Maybe Cas will even stay long enough for eggs and bacon.

\-----

After that night and morning, Cas seems to have turned a corner. He still has bad days, and his bad nights, but they’re not every day. He’s leaving his room, at least, and eating with Sam and Dean. He even makes conversation with them sometimes, helping with research and bidding them good morning and night.

Dean still checks on him at night, but hasn’t come any closer than the doorway. He’s still unsettled by the contentment he’d felt waking up in Cas’s bed and isn’t sure how to process it.

Cas disappears for hours at a time most days, though, and Dean’s getting worried. He’ll vanish in the morning after breakfast and reappear late in the morning, or just before dinner. There’s a faint scent of something earthy and damp that hovers around him, and Dean’s noticed dirt under Cas’s nails and on his bare feet. He’s taken to wearing jeans and t-shirts, mostly stuff stolen from Dean, and occasionally a pair of ancient aviators he’d found in the bunker that have to be from the 40s at the latest.

He does seem to be doing better, though, and Dean decides that for now, it looks like Cas has found something to keep him going. That’s a good thing, Dean supposes.

But Dean can’t help worrying. It’s in his nature, he thinks, and somehow Cas has become part of the subset of people he’s constantly worrying about in the back of his mind. It’s a small group: until Cas, it was a group of one.

Now they’ve got more people in their little family: it’s not just Sam and Dean. It’s Sam, and Dean, and Charlie, and Kevin, and of course Cas, and Dean isn’t quite sure when it was that his number of siblings quadrupled.

But then, that’s not right either. He’s certainly said Cas is like a brother, but–

Dean shakes his head and reaches for a book. That right there’s not really a line of thought he wants to delve into.

But Cas becomes harder and harder to find as the weeks pass. He’s there for breakfast, and usually for dinner, but many days he’s gone for the hours in between.

Finally one day, Dean is fed up. 

Cas could sense him from anywhere in the world as an angel, of course, but as a human, he’s considerably less aware of his surroundings. Dean slips after him after breakfast, trailing a few feet behind as Cas wanders the halls of the bunker, seemingly aimlessly. He turns down one hall, then another, cocking his head to the side as if listening. He finally reaches a part of the bunker Dean’s never been in before, and Dean is having trouble keeping up without getting lost or losing Cas.

Finally Cas reaches a door much like the front one. It’s round, metal, and has an intense lock that seems to have magical and mechanical components. It’s also hanging loose from the door, unsecured.

Cas pulls the hatch-like door open just enough to slide out and shuts it behind him, but not before Dean catches a whiff of outdoor air blowing in.

There’s no way he can sneak out the door, not without Cas seeing him, anyway. 

Dean’s good at waiting, and he’s got nowhere to be.

\-----

Three hours later, he’s stretched out on the floor, hands beneath his head, dozing. He’s sung through three Zeppelin albums in his head and just finished planning out a new design for an EMF meter when the door swings open. He jumps up and sneaks back into the alcove he’s been hiding in.

Cas walks by, lost in thought, feet bare and face pink. His hands and legs are streaked with dirt and he looks almost... content.

Dean watches him as he goes, and as soon as Cas is out of sight Dean slips from his hiding spot and out the door into bright sunlight.

It's a garden, at least fifty feet wide, stretching back beyond the bunker until it blends with the trees about thirty feet back. The area nearest the bunker is orderly, with deep reddish brown soil punctuated by seedlings in neat rows. Further back it's a wild tangle of branches and weeds that’s barely distinguishable from the woods surrounding it. There are areas back there, too, though Cas seems to have cleared out that area somewhat as well.

He frowns as he steps closer. Between and across the neat rows are saplings, scattered seemingly randomly throughout the garden.

He looks closer. No, not randomly.

They're clustered, spreading out from a more densely packed center to more sparsely on the edges. It’s hard to see the pattern because so much of the garden is still overgrown, but it's there.

He picks his way carefully towards the center, taking care to avoid stepping on any of the plants or carefully ordered furrows. In the center is a deep depression, still visible though it’s overgrown with small trees that tangle and stretch toward the sky.

"It's where I landed when I fell."

Dean jumps at the voice, tripping and nearly crashing into a group of trees before a pair of arms catch him and help keep him upright.

Cas smiles from inches away, his eyes bright blue in the sunlight. "Hello, Dean."

Dean's breathless and speechless for a moment as he stares into the former angel's eyes. A bird squawks as it flies overhead, and Dean breaks their gaze, collecting himself before responding. 

"Hey, Cas. What're you planting out here? Gonna grow me some tomatoes or something?"

Cas smiles again, and Dean realizes how long it's been since he's seen that expression. "If you'd like me to." He turns, carefully, picking his way to the edge of the garden. Dean, unsure what to do, follows. They stand together at the edge of the cleared path and gaze out over the tangle.

Finally Cas speaks. "When I woke here and saw my brothers and sisters falling, I thought I would never find peace again." He points at the depression in the center, now nearly filled with tangled saplings. "I lay there and thought I might as well have died, for all the use I'd be as a human."

Dean's not sure what to say, so he says nothing, and after a moment, Cas continues. "I found my way to the door, and-" he finally turns to Dean- "and you know what happened then." He sighs. "I didn't know if the feeling that kept pulling me back here was a perverse human desire to re-live my suffering or if it was something more profound, so I fought it for days. But I couldn’t fight it forever, not once I started seeing them in my dreams, burning.” He shuddered, and Dean pressed a hand to his shoulder. Cas glanced at him, gratitude in his eyes, and continued. “Eventually I gave into it. I followed the call and I found my way back here." He glances around, his face unreadable. “I was called here by the small trace of my grace I retained when Metatron cast me from heaven. And these...” he gestures at the saplings radiating out from his landing site, “these are my brothers and sisters.”

Dean jumps back from where he’s been brushing dirt from the leaves of a small maple sapling. “What?!”

Cas tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at Dean. “These are the graces of my fallen brethren, Dean. The angels.”

Dean glances around as if expecting to see unconscious angels strewn throughout the brambles. “Where are they, then?”

Cas sighed. “When angels fall this way, they are born to human women. Usually their grace falls near their consciousness, but since Heaven is closed and I am the only angel left on Earth with even a touch of grace-” he reaches up and fingers the scar on his neck- “they were drawn to me.”

“What does that mean? These trees–” he looks around at the saplings forcing their way through the brambles– “The angels–they’re not trapped in there, are they?”

Cas shakes his head. “No, Dean. Their consciousnesses have been born to human women across the world. Perhaps more highly concentrated in this area, but they’re still being born as children somewhere.” He sighs. “When an angel falls, his grace is separated from his being. That’s why he or she has no memory of being an angel until he’s reminded.”

“Like Anna.”

Something unreadable flashed in Cas’s eyes. “Yes. Like Anna.”

“So what’s your plan, then? You just gonna have them grow here until–what?”

“Until my brothers and sisters are ready to reclaim them. I have to protect them, Dean. From people who might want to use the power an angel’s grace holds.”

Dean nods, still watching the trees warily. “All right, Cas. Do what you gotta do.” His eyes are worried as he glances around the wide space.

Cas steps closter. “I need this, Dean.” He stares at Dean, willing him to understand.

Dean nods. He isn’t sure he gets it completely, but he sure knows what it feels like to need to atone. “Okay, Cas. But you let us know if we can help, all right?”

Cas gives a quick nod and turns back towards the bunker, picking his way through the grass carefully. Dean watches as he slips inside, then stares at the tiny trees around him.

How many of these angels has he met, he wonders. Is Inias here somewhere? Joshua? What about Virgil, trapped in that other world? What about Naomi? Cas said she had been killed, but who could know for sure?

He shivers. The angels are out there, somewhere, newborn and unable to remember their past or their species. It’s not the first time he feels too small for the knowledge he has, and it won’t be the last.

Dean cautiously heads back inside, making sure not to so much as brush any grace trees.

\-----

Now that Dean knows where Cas is going when he disappears, he’s a little less worried about him. And that’s why a few weeks later, when Jody calls with a case in Nebraska that’ll take an overnight trip, he heads out to what he’s taken to calling the angel garden.

Cas is kneeling on the grassy strip between bunker and garden, gently tugging at weeds that have wrapped themselves around what seems to be a small oak tree. (Dean is constantly amazed at the speed the grace trees are growing; Cas tells him it isn’t unusual for them to grow much faster than their normal counterparts). Dean watches him for a moment, smiling at the relaxed set to Cas’s shoulders and the mess of his hair.

Cas turns as Dean shifts and snaps a twig and hums a greeting.

Dean waves and steps closer, pausing on the edge of the garden.

It’s much larger than the last time he was out here; Cas has cleared and planted an area nearly fifteen feet on a side and the first few rows of new plants are already beginning to sprout beans and tomatoes and tiny cucumbers.

“Jody found us a hunt, but it’s gonna be an overnighter,” Dean calls across the garden. “You, uh, you wanna come along?”

Cas looks up at him, eyes wide, conflicted. “Thank you, Dean. But I should stay here.” He rocked back on his heels and glances around. “I still have much work to do.”

Dean nods and sighs. “Okay.” He turns to head back inside, then pauses. “Hey Cas?”

Cas turns to him again. “Yes, Dean?”

“You, uh, you take care of yourself while we’re gone, okay? Don’t forget to eat, and shower, and do all that human stuff you hate.”

Cas smiles. “I’ll do my best.”

Dean nods, unsure what to say but strangely reluctant to leave. Their eye contact holds until Sam’s voice, calling from inside the bunker, filters out.

“You be careful, Cas.” Dean hurries inside before Cas can respond.

\-----

The hunt is a quick and easy one, for once, but they still don’t finish burning the bones until it’s past ten o’clock and too late to get back to Kansas. Dean’s restless and grumpy, snapping at Sam as they check into the motel.

“Dude, what’s with you tonight?” Sam asks him, finally fed up. “Chill out. We finished the case, what are you so tense about?” He pulls his shirt off, hoping to find some sort of relief from the burning heat of the summer night.

Dean throws his duffel on the bed. “Nothing.” He shoves his gun under the pillow more violently than is perhaps necessary. “Just thought we’d be able to make it home tonight, that’s all. It’s fine.”

Sam looks at him quizzically for a moment, then understanding dawns on his face. “You’re worried about Cas, aren’t you?” He smiles. “I’m sure he’s fine, Dean. The guy’s billions of years old. He can handle one night on his own.”

“I know that, Sam. He’s good. Obviously.” Dean fluffs his pillow aggressively and flops down on the bed, boots and all, and folds and arm over his face, ending the conversation.

Sam smirks.

\-----

Dean’s up early the next morning, packing their duffles quickly and badgering Sam to get a move on. "Just wanna get home, Sam," he says when Sam asks about the rush. "I'm sick of Nebraska, that's all. Lets just get back to the bunker, okay?"

Sam shakes his head. "I'm sure he's fine, Dean." But he hurries anyway, throwing his bags in the car.

They arrive at the bunker a few hours later and drag their stuff inside. They made good time; they'd checked out of the motel a little after seven and it's only noon now. Cas's door is open, however, and his bed is empty.

"He probably just got up early, Dean. He's just out doing whatever he does all day," Sam tries to reassure Dean. 

"I just want to check on him. Make sure he didn't drop a toaster in the bathtub or fall off a chair or something."

Sam watches his brother until he's fed up with Dean's edginess, and goes to check the lower levels for Cas.

\-----

Dean knows where Cas probably is, but for some reason he doesn’t want Sam to see the garden. It’s as if it’s a secret that only he and Cas share, and he doesn’t want to break the fragile new trust they’ve built in the few weeks since Cas fell. He weaves his way through the halls of the bunker, taking a few wrong turns along the way, until he reaches the door.

It’s open a crack, which is usually the case when Cas is outside, but there’s water dripping into the hallway from the rain the night before.

Dean slips out the door, frowning, and glances around, not seeing Cas anywhere in the cleared space, which has grown considerably since they’ve been away.

“Cas?” he calls tentatively. “You out here, buddy?”

He steps further into the garden, working his way carefully through the knee-high plants and shoulder-high trees. They’re growing fast, he thinks distantly, as his worry builds. But where is Cas?

He spots something huddled around a bare trunk a few yards into the uncleared wilderness and moves towards it.

It’s Cas.

He’s fast asleep, shirtless, barefoot, and curled around a tree that’s been split by lightning.

Dean hurries to his side.

The first thing he notices is that Cas is soaked from last night’s rain, and shivering slightly.

The second thing he notices is that Cas’s back and shoulders and neck are bright red with sunburn.

Dean kneels beside the fallen angel, resting a hand on the least red part of his shoulder and shaking him gently.

“Cas. Hey, Cas, wake up.”

Cas stirred slightly, pulling himself more tightly around the charred trunk.

Dean runs his hand up and down Cas’s bare back gently, trying not to press on his angry sunburn. “Cas, buddy, you ok?”

Cas rolls on his back towards Dean with a soft, pained whimper and opens his eyes. “Dean.”

Dean sits back, hand still trailing down Cas’s shoulder. “Hey there. You been out here all night?”

Cas blinks up at him, then glances around. “Yes.” He winces as he sits up, trying to turn to look at his back and whimpering as the red skin of his neck is pulled. He starts to stand, then catches sight of the blackened tree and slumps back to the ground and buries his face in his hands.

It takes a minute, but Dean understands. “This one was somebody you knew, huh?” He sits down, groaning a little as his joints pop, and puts a careful arm around Cas’s shoulders, pulling him close. “I’m sorry.”

Cas mumbles something under his breath, and Dean leans closer. “What’s that?”

“Inias,” says Cas, louder this time. “It was Inias. You– you met him, once.”

Dean nods, not sure what to say.

Cas sighs, fingers picking at the hem of Dean’s shirt. “He still believed in me, in the end. He believed I could bring the angels together and lead them into the future.” He turns in Dean’s hold and runs a shaking hand down the bark. “He was wrong.”

Dean shakes his head. “Cas...” he scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Cas, you did your best. Inias knew that, I’m sure.” He glances at the tree, whose bark is crumbling off in chunks. “And he’s still out there, right? As a baby?”

Cas nods. “But he’ll never regain his grace. He’ll be– human.” He stumbles on the word, voice shaking. “Like me. But he’ll never remember being an angel.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” The words slip out before Dean can stop them.

Cas turns, eyes wide, and stare at Dean for a moment, wheels turning in his head as he processes Dean’s words.

“I mean, it hasn’t exactly been a joyride being an angel these last few years, you know?”

“Dean.” Cas sits up, pulling away from Dean, and looks him in the eye. “It’s who he is. Who he’s been for millennia.” He rubs his hands over his thighs in an all-too-human gesture. “It’s just...” he sighs. “It isn’t fair, that’s all. Inias was– he was good. He was honest and kind and he truly cared for humanity and he doesn’t deserve what I’ve done to him. And now he’ll never know. And–” Dean watches a tear slide down Cas’s face and his heart clenches–“and I can never apologize. I can never fix it.” He slumps back against Dean, tears now running down his face in a constant flood.

Dean wraps his arms around him as he begins to sob silently, holding the angel to him tightly. There’s nothing he can say to fix this, or even to help. He’s lost enough people on his watch to know that. But he can be here, with Cas, and maybe that’s enough.

\----

When Cas’s sobs have finally slowed, then stopped, Dean stands and pulls Cas with him, dragging him into a tight hug. 

“Being human’s not all bad, Cas. He’ll live a good long life. We can even try and find him, if you want, and watch out for him. Okay?”

Cas nods into Dean’s shirt, limp with exhaustion from his night outside and his emotional outburst. He lets Dean lead him inside, through the hallways and into Dean’s room, where Dean sits him on the bed and rifles through his dresser.

“Now let’s get that sunburn taken care of, all right?”

Cas nods silently.

“Lay down on your stomach–ah! Here we go.” Dean pulls out a tube of aloe gel from a drawer.

He turns back to Cas and stops in his tracks. 

Cas is spread out in the bed, face on his folded arms, jeans riding low on his hips. His back is one long line of muscle stretching down the bed and his lower back curves up into a waistband barely clinging to the swell of his ass. All the work outside has built firm slopes to his shoulders and his arms are bronzed from the sunlight.

His eyes shift to the red skin of Cas's back and he shakes his head. Now's really not the time to ogle the guy. He sits on the edge of the bed and Cas tilts his face up to look at him.

"How's your back feeling, Cas? Looks like you were out in the sun a while."

Cas stretches with a wince. "It's painful. I hadn't realized it would be so uncomfortable."

Dean smiles fondly. "Yeah, sunburns suck. But this'll help, I promise." He snaps the cap on the tube and squirts some in his hand. "Might be a little cold, sorry." He rests his hands on Cas's shoulders and the angel lets out a tiny moan. 

"That's nice, Dean," he says drowsily. "I like the coldness."

Dean rubs on the aloe, making sure to coat all Cas's burned skin. It feels good to do something to help him, he thinks wryly, since Dean's part of the reason Cas has to even think about things like sunburns these days.

He glances at Cas's face, which is turned towards him on the pillow. "Hey Cas?"

"Mm?" Cas's voice is drowsy.

"I– I know taking care of the grace trees is important to you. I get it. But–" he meets Cas's suddenly open eyes. "But you gotta take care of yourself, too." He smiles sadly. "And you know when that's coming from me that it's serious."

Cas pulls away from Dean's hands, which have long since stopped rubbing in new aloe and are now just spreading what's left around. "How do you do it, Dean?"

"Do what?" Dean rests his sticky hands on his thighs.

"Take care of your family when they're hurt. Without losing track of yourself." Cas is watching him intently, too close as always.

Dean sighs. "It's tough, Cas. I definitely know it's tough." He flops back on the bed beside Cas, hands behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling. "And I'm not the best at balance, you know?" 

Cas nods.

"But taking care of Sammy was my life, was everything for so long, that I just–I missed out on figuring out who I was."

"What changed?"

Dean laughs. "Sam told me to cut it out." He shakes his head. "My little brother's not so little anymore. He’s thirty years old, and he needs to be his own person. That's what he told me. He thought that me taking care of him meant I didn't trust him to take care of himself." He turns his face to Cas. "So I'm letting go. Letting him do his thing and figuring out what I want. It's a pain in the ass, but I think it's good." He reaches out a hand and brushes a stray leaf from Cas's hair. "I dunno why I'm telling you all this."

Cas smiles. "It's helpful, Dean. Thank you." He looks hesitant, and reaches a hand towards Dean, then drops it. 

"What's up, Cas?"

Cas sighs. "I–I want to be closer to you, Dean. I feel it would be... comforting."

Dean rolls on his side and runs a hand through his hair. "You wanna hug, Cas? That what you're saying?"

Cas sighs and shifts awkwardly, rolling to face Dean. "I–yes. Yes, it is."

Dean rubs his hand through his hair and reaches out. "Okay. C'mere."

Cas hesitates, then scoots forward on the bed until he's a few inches from Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes. "Dude, if we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right." He wraps an arm around Cas's waist and drags him close.

For a moment it's awkward, with elbows and knees and chins bumping, but then Dean shifts and suddenly Cas is tucked against him and they're pressed together from cheek to shin.

Cas sighs, some of the tension leaving his body, and Dean rubs his hand slowly up and down Cas's back. 

"Better?"

"Yes. Thank you, Dean." Their voices are low, almost whispering.

"You gotta live your life, Cas. You can't just live for who you lost."

Cas nods against Dean's neck.

"We've all done stuff we're not proud of and we're all still here."

Cas is silent.

"Inias would want you to live your life, Cas. He wanted you to be happy."

Dean feels wetness against his shirt and he pulls Cas more tightly against him.

"And Cas... I want you to be happy, too. Here. With me."

Cas pulls away just enough to meet Dean's gaze. "All right." He hesitates for a moment, then presses his lips to Dean's.

Somehow, it isn't even a surprise, but just the next natural evolution of the two of them. Dean presses back, lips sliding and catching. The kiss holds, deepens, and Dean reaches up and buries his hands in Cas’s hair.

They pull apart after a moment, panting, and rest their foreheads together.

“I’ll help you with the garden, Cas,” whispers Dean. “But you gotta promise me you’ll pay attention to you, too.” He runs a gentle hand down Cas’s already-peeling back. “I don’t want this to happen again, okay?”

Cas nods, his breath ghosting across Dean’s face. “All right, Dean.”

Dean pulls him close and closes his eyes with a smile. For the first time in a long time, he’s pretty sure they’re gonna be okay.


End file.
